


Shake and Shiver

by entwashian



Category: Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entwashian/pseuds/entwashian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang investigates the disappearance of Old Widow Prescott's cat, Tiger, in her creepy old mansion.  A genre-swap from mystery/humor to horror/thriller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake and Shiver

“Like, I really don’t think we should go in that house, man,” Shaggy said, feeling a chill run down his spine as he eyed the dubious-looking structure.

“Old Widow Prescott needs our help finding her missing cat,” Fred replied earnestly. “That’s why we had you bring Scooby along. He’ll have that cat sniffed out in no time.”

“So what if the building looks a little creepy?” Daphne added. “Poor Old Widow Prescott has lived by herself for the last fifteen years. She doesn’t have anyone to help her maintain the place. No wonder it’s falling down around her ears.”

“And you even have Scooby to protect you from any vicious octogenarians we may encounter,” Velma playfully goaded.

“Right. My big, strong, fearless companion,” Shaggy said, studying Scooby. The dog’s ears lay flat against his head, and his tail was tucked safely away between his legs.

“Well, looks like Scoob agrees with me,” Shaggy said, turning back toward the van. “Too bad, let’s go. I’ll call Old Widow Prescott once we get home and let her know not to expect us.”

“Not so fast,” Velma said, putting her hand in her pocket. “If Scooby’s the one who needs convincing, then this ought to be a snap.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket. Scooby’s ears stood at attention, and his eyes tracked every movement Velma made. “Whaddaya say, boy?” Velma cooed, holding up the treat. “Wanna see what’s inside the house?”

Scooby’s tail wagged eagerly.

“Traitor,” Shaggy mumbled bitterly as they walked up the pathway toward the house.

Fred rang the doorbell, and they waited on the porch.

“I think you’re just jealous that Scooby got a snack and you didn’t,” Daphne teased.

Shaggy’s stomach gave a low rumble in his belly. “That could be true,” he admitted.

“We’ll go for pizza after,” Fred promised, frowning at the still-closed door. He rang the bell again.

“Like, maybe you’re doing it wrong,” Shaggy said when another minute passed without the door having been opened.

“How do you ring a bell **wrong**?” Daphne asked.

“Try the knocker,” Velma said, gesturing to the giant brass lions affixed to the door at shoulder height.

Fred lifted the ring that hung from a lion’s maw, and it squeaked a bit from disuse. Scooby made a small keening sound, his muzzle shut and nostrils flaring.

“This is promising,” Shaggy said.

Fred shot him a quelling glance and moved to push the ring of the knocker back down, but the ring never made contact with the metal plate behind it.

Instead, the door creaked open a few inches under the momentum of Fred’s swing.

“Even better,” Shaggy said. “Now what?”

“Now we go in,” Fred replied, pushing open the door and stepping through to the other side. Daphne and Velma followed.

“Well, Scoob, it’s been nice knowin’ ya,” Shaggy said, trailing after them. He left the door open for Scooby to follow. The dog pressed in close to Shaggy as they walked, his side maintaining constant contact with Shaggy’s leg. Shaggy rested a hand on his head.

“Mrs. Prescott?” Fred was calling out. “Are you home? We’ve come to help find Tiger!”

Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall, and Daphne and Velma took up Fred’s call. “Mrs. Prescott?”

There was no answer.

“Let’s split up to cover more ground,” said Fred.

“Nuh-uh,” said Shaggy. “No way!”

Fred and Velma exchanged a glance.

“The girls and I will head upstairs,” Fred plowed on, “and you can continue the search down here with Scooby.”

“Or,” said Shaggy, “since Old Widow Prescott isn’t here and obviously doesn’t need our help, we could all turn around and go for ice cream sundaes.”

Scooby sat down hard, his rump hitting the ground with emphasis.

“Or you could climb up the rickety stairs with us and we could all search together,” Velma countered.

Shaggy looked at the staircase. The bannister had whole chunks of it missing, and several of the spokes supporting it had snapped off and left jagged splinters of wood stabbing up into empty space.

“Scoob and I will check downstairs,” Shaggy announced.

The stairs groaned under the burden of the three teenagers, but held up nevertheless. Shaggy shook his head, and looked around the hall, which branched off in two directions. “Eenie, meenie, miny, _moe_ ,” Shaggy said, taking the hall to his left. Scooby flanked him.

They passed a large, cob-webby bookcase, and Scooby sneezed.

A low growl came from a darkened doorway, and the pair froze. The growl grew louder, and something rushed at them from the darkness.

“Zoinks!” Shaggy yelped, leaping backward. Scooby barked. A tiny tornado of fur erupted in the hallway.

“Shaggy!?” came Fred’s concerned call from upstairs.

Shaggy chuckled. “Like, Scoob and I totally solved the mystery!” he yelled back. “We found the cat!”

Scooby stretched his neck to sniff delicately at Tiger. The cat swatted him across the nose, and he quickly drew back, letting out an indignant chuff.

The stairs made further protestations as the teens trampled back to the ground floor.

“Any sign of Mrs. Prescott?” Fred asked.

“Nope,” Shaggy said. “Now how about that pizza?”

“We need to find Mrs. Prescott,” Daphne said, scooping up the cat. “She could be lying hurt somewhere. Maybe Tiger is trying to tell us.”

She scratched the cat under its chin, and Shaggy stared in disbelief as it began to purr.

“Where did the cat come from?” Velma asked.

Shaggy hitched a thumb over his shoulder at the darkened room. “Somewhere in there.”

Fred stuck his hand into the darkness, and groped around the frame of the door until he found a switch. Light flooded into the room, and the teens filed through the doorway.

“Jinkies,” Velma breathed quietly, and Shaggy watched with rapt fascination as all the color drained from her face.

Sensations flashed at Shaggy in fits and starts, bits and pieces. Daphne gasped and covered her mouth with one hand -- or, Daphne covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. He breathed in the taste of metal from the air. Scooby became a mass of rigid muscle, tense beneath his touch. Fred reached for Velma’s elbow, or Velma backed up into Fred’s hand. And the smell hit him. The smell of a corpse.

The smell, to be precise, of Old Widow Prescott’s corpse, nailed to the wall, her throat slit from ear to ear.

From behind them came the sound of the front door slamming shut.

**Author's Note:**

> For the [gameofcards](http://gameofcards.livejournal.com/) "genre swap" challenge.


End file.
